Pity the Child
by Azara-Rayne18
Summary: Blaine and Puck hate each other. So when they're paired up for a duet competition, neither boy is happy about it. But they soon realize that they're more alike than they thought. Klaine, Pises. Features "Pity the Child #2" from Chess, sung by Adam Pascal.
1. Chapter 1

Noah Puckerman did not like Blaine Anderson. Smarmy little prep school kid, probably never worked a day in his life. The little life ruiner just walked around Mckinley like he owned the place. Always mooning after Kurt, singing blatantly inappropriate love songs like he was frickin' Barry Manilow. And Kurt wasn't the only one falling for the 'I'm a dapper, sensitive artist with a tortured past and questionable song choosing abilities' shtick. Half the girls in the school would drop Puck in a heartbeat just to strum Blaine's guitar for him, gay or not. Not that Puck would ever admit that outside of internal monologue mode. And there was no way he was going to risk his life outside of juvie for the hobbit. So he merely sat in glee, glaring at Blaine from his place on Lauren Zizes' lap.

Blaine Anderson did not like Noah Puckerman. Mr. 'I'm a sexy, vaguely ethnic bad boy with a heart of gold and questionable hair styling abilities' was seriously getting on his nerves. Everything about him. The fact that he strutted around being all six foot tall and everything. The way he was constantly referring to Kurt as his 'boy' as if he was planning to move from his obvious bi-curious tendency to full out bi and wanted to stake out his territory in advance. His blatant lack of respect for women... and hair gel. Puck inspired hatred in Blaine like Kurt inspired the urge to sing blatantly inappropriate love songs. But there was no way Blaine was going to risk his place in Mckinley with Kurt by starting a fight with another student. So he merely sat in glee, glaring at Puckerman with his arms wrapped securely around the fashionable countertenor perched on his lap.

Mr. Schue was up in front of the room, announcing yet another duet competition. "Now this competition is going to be about overcoming some of the cliquishness I can see forming in our glee club. You guys need to start forming bonds with people who aren't in your immediate group of friends. There are a lot of voices in this group that could sound amazing if you paired them together. So, I have taken the liberty of choosing your duet partners this round. Mercedes, you're with Finn. Rachel's with Mike. Kurt and Santana, Artie and Quinn, Puck and Blaine - "

"I'm sorry, Mr. Schue. What was that?" Blaine interrupted.

"Hold up! You're saying I have to sing with him? No freaking way!" Puck said.

Mr. Schue looked up from his list, "That's exactly what I'm saying. You guys are both talented performers, but your obvious feud with each other is one of the things limiting this glee club from reaching its full potential."

"Mr. Schue, there is no feud between me and Puck," Blaine said.

"Yeah, and if there was, I'd kick the little hobbit into next week," Puck proclaimed.

"I'm sorry, but I actually think I could take you," Blaine retorted. Puck stood up, using his aggravating height against the other boy.

"Are you guys listening to yourselves?" Quinn asked.

"You sound like you're about to break out the wrestling mat any second now," Lauren said, "Which would be hot to watch, but... actually I think there's a wrestling mat in the storage closet outside."

"Puck, man, you've been griping about Blaine ever since he got here," Finn added.

Kurt chimed in, "And Blaine, don't think I haven't noticed the way you squeeze me every time Puck walks into a room. Speaking of which… you're kind of hurting me right now."

Blaine released him, "Sorry."

"Thanks."

"Okay," Puck said, "So maybe Frodo and I do have a feud going on. All the more reason for me to refuse to sing with the guy."

"I hate to say this, but I agree. Mr. Schue, I don't need to sing with Puck in order to be a productive member of New Directions…"

"Are you kidding?" Santana said, "The whole reason we're doing this stupid assignment is because you can't sing a song without staring into Kurt's eyes like you're searching for the fountain of height or something. It's really gross, actually."

"…Just because you can't admit your feelings doesn't mean you have to make fun of Blaine," Brittany said dully.

"Guys, guys!" Mr. Schue called, "I'm not going to fight you on this. Puck, Blaine, come to the front of the room."

Both boys obeyed. Puck swaggered to the front while Blaine opted to confidently stride there after gallantly giving his seat to Kurt.

"Believe me," Mr. Schue said, "I know what it's like to have to work with someone you don't get along with. But if you can't learn to sing together when it's just the two of you, you'll never learn to sing together in competition. So I want you guys to hug it out and promise you'll do your best in this competition."

"We promise," Blaine and Puck said, smiling with fake sincerity as they pulled each other into a stiff hug.

"I want to step on you so badly right now," Puck said quietly, so only the ridiculously short boy in his arms could hear him.

"It's on, Puckerman," Blaine whispered. "Oh, and by the way, the 'Puckzilla' thing? Overcompensating."

"Screw you."

"Was that an insult, or a request?"

The two boys parted and walked back to their respective seats. Kurt sat primly on Blaine's lap only to have his boyfriend squeeze the life out of him. Lauren was off looking for a wrestling mat, so Puck plopped himself down on her seat, still glaring at the curly haired boy across the room.

Game on.


	2. Good Vibrations

Puck was sitting across from Blaine Anderson.

Puck was sitting across from Blaine Anderson on an ocean blue quilt.

Puck was sitting across from Blaine Anderson on an ocean blue quilt with walls that were painted robin's egg blue and a cerulean carpet.

Man, life sucked sometimes.

"Puck, stop it," Kurt said sharply as he walked into the room.

"Stop wha?" Puck snarled, trying to sound as badass as possible despite being dropped into the inside of a blue cupcake.

"Stop thinking about how much life sucks sometimes," Kurt said, sitting cross legged on the floor between him and Blaine. Man, Hummel was good.

"I'm not," Puck tried to deny it anyway, but Kurt gave him a look that made Blaine smirk in triumph.

"I've leant you boys my serenity room to work on your duet. The blue will help calm your minds and help you come to a peaceful solution on what song you should sing. I've also taken the liberty of lighting a lavender-mint candle, so whenever you're upset you can just take a whiff of that. There you go." He set the purply-blue candle delicately by Blaine's knee.

"Thanks, babe," Blaine said, pulling Kurt in for a kiss. Kurt hummed happily, trying to pull away after a moment – but Blaine wouldn't let him. The little hobbit wrapped his fingers around the back of Kurt's head and kept at it, sucking face with the boy like there was no tomorrow. And the whole time, he stared right at Puck, his eyes glinting arrogantly.

Life sucked sometimes.

Blaine finally released Kurt, who rolled around on the floor like a maniac for a few minutes before getting shakily back to his feet. Puck groaned; no way was the little hobbit that good. "O-Okay boys. Now… you get to work. And I don't want to hear any fighting up here; if I have to deal with Santana all week, you guys can get along for a few hours. Bye." And Kurt left, fanning himself frantically on the way out.

Silence.

The boys sized each other up, Blaine trying to gain the advantage by subtly lifting himself onto his heels. Puck straightened up. Blaine pouted.

"So…." Blaine clicked his tongue obnoxiously, "What song are you thinking about doing for our duet?"

"How about Randy Newman's 'Short People'?" Puck asked, before singing softly, "They got little baby legs that stand so low. You got to pick em up just to say hello…"

"No," Blaine said, eyes flashing.

"Well, I don't see you coming up with any great ideas, hobbit."

Blaine sighed heavily, reaching for the candle and taking a large whiff. "You are so lucky that I can't kill you right now."

"What's the matter, little Kurtie doesn't want you to mess up his Serenity Room? A true badass doesn't care where he gets his hands dirty."

"You leave Kurt out of this, you ill-mannered cretinism!"

"I don't know what that is, but I'm fairly certain you deserve a fist in your face for saying it. Besides, I wasn't taking a hit at Kurt, he's my boy. I'm making fun of you and your stupid, tight ass, anal devotion to every rule you come across!"

"At least I know how to obey rules, unlike you and your brand of pig headed, miscreant criminals! You think that you have the right to do whatever you want, take whatever pleases you. Well, let me tell you something. You are not a 'badass', Mr. Noah Puckerman. You are a pathetic idiot whose actions can only result in other people getting hurt."

Puck stilled, a sudden image of Quinn Fabray popping into his mind. A twist of guilt cut through his stomach, further irritating him. "Oh, yeah? Well... well, you're short!"

"You've already thought of that one, but I applaud you for your creativity. Dead beat!"

"Lame ass!"

"Man who wears his hair in a Mohawk!"

"Man who… wait, what are you saying about my Mohawk?"

"I can't believe this!" Blaine said, straightening his scarf, "I'm so aggravated I can't come up with a decent insult! All I know is that there is no way in hell I am going to sing a song with you!"

"Same here, Blanderson!"

It was at that moment that Kurt ran back into the room, attracted by the sound of their shouting. His eyes widened; his mouth dropping to the floor. "Finn! Finn, the Serenity Room isn't working!" Kurt ran forward, grabbing the candle from the floor and holding it to Blaine's nose, "Here, take a few whiffs of this, baby."

Blaine breathed deeply, "I still want to kill him, Kurt."

"Oh," Kurt threw the candle at Puck, "Well, you try it then. You boys don't understand; if your bad vibes mess up my Serenity Room, I won't have any recourse but to kill Santana next time she makes a gay joke. Or do something worse…" Kurt's jaw tightened, his eyes taking on that crazy look he got whenever his favorite contestant was thrown off of America's Next Top Model. Blaine had nightmares about that look.

Finn ran in moments later, catching sight of Kurt's face, "Dude, who got thrown of America's Next Top Model?"

"No one, Finn, it's Tuesday. I need you to take Puck somewhere where he won't send my boyfriend into the most undapper rage since the Six Flags Incident of late July."

"Please don't mention Six Flags."

"Sorry, babe."

"Oh. Okay, sure. I guess we could go play Guitar Hero or something. But what are you guys going to do?"

Kurt's expression could have reversed global warming. "Honestly, Finn. What would Rachel do to calm you down?"

"They're gonna make out, dude," Puck hissed. Finn wasn't confused anymore, nearly running after Puck. The door slammed shut, leaving the two boys alone.

Kurt grinned down at Blaine, "Now that we're alone… I need to get some good vibes back into my Serenity Room."

"Yay," Blaine said. "But, when we're done, can you help me research some good Mohawk related insults?"

"What are boyfriends for?


	3. Common Thread

The day before their assignment was due, Blaine and Puck weren't doing much better at the whole, 'getting along' thing. In fact, they'd fought another four times, exchanged more than two dozen insults and – in Puck's case – vandalized three gym uniforms. It came to a head in Glee Club, when a fight ended in Puck punching Blaine right in his smug face.

"Okay, boys," Mr. Schue said, in after school detention, "You're going to sit here and figure out what song you're singing, and you're going to get over this ridiculous hatred of each other you're harboring. I can't have fist fights in my classroom. If you can't figure out how to make peace, I'm not going to have any choice but to kick you both out of glee club. I have never seen such immature behavior from any of my students." His phone rang and Mr. Schue opened his texts and sighed, "Now, if you'll excuse me, Sue has saran wrapped my car." Mr. Schue stormed out the door, leaving Blaine to cup his purpling cheekbone in one hand and glare at Puck through the eye that wasn't swelling shut.

"I'm going to have a black eye, you know," Blaine snarled.

"Good," Puck said, "You deserve it for all the time you've spent being a smug, chick-stealing asshole."

"Oh, is that you're problem? One of your half-wit girlfriends decided to go after a guy with a little more depth? Well, good for her. It's not my fault I have more game than you do. In case you haven't noticed, I'm gay."

"No, I've noticed," Puck said, "If you spent less time slobbering after my boy, it might have been harder to place, but I sure noticed,"

"Kurt is not your boy!" Blaine hissed, "Kurt is the boy you spent two years terrorizing because your tiny brain is incapable of understanding that two boys might actually love each other! I don't know how you think the world works, but in reality, you don't get to throw a kid in a dumpster for two years and then call him your boy."

Puck froze.

"That's the stick you've got up your ass about me? That I used to tease Kurt?"

Blaine stared at the front of the room, "I don't like bullies. Kurt may have forgiven you, but I know first-hand how it felt to be treated that way, and I don't think you deserve to be forgiven." He looked down and sighed roughly, "But I'm not giving up the chance to be in glee with him over you, so let's get this damn thing started. What song do you want to sing?"

"I slept with your mom," Puck said sourly. It was his go-to insult, now that the others had been depleted. An uncomfortable anger was burning through him. What, Anderson thought he was better than Puck because he made a few mistakes? If Blaine Anderson didn't think he spent every night awake regretting what he'd done then that smug asshole could go screw himself.

"What?" Blaine said.

"You heard me. I screwed your mom."

"What is your-" Blaine sighed roughly and stood up, "You're pathetic. I'll pick a song for us to sing, and I'll make sure to pick one with small words so that you don't get too confused, you warthog faced buffoon." Blaine looked at a mirror on Schue's desk and sighed, "I'm definitely going to have a black eye tomorrow. Dammit, what am I supposed to tell my dad?"

"Tell him you're a little punk," Puck sneered, "And while you're at it, go tell your mom that I'll see her tonight."

"Shows what you know," Blaine said, "I don't have a mom."

"Yeah, I'm sure daddy's gonna have a big fit that his precious little baby got-" It sunk in, "What did you say, dude?"

"I don't have a mom?" Blaine said, "What, did I just take away your full arsenal of insults? Don't worry, I'm still short." But Puck wasn't listening.

"Dude, who washes your hair?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, "What are you - "

"Who gets you hot chocolate when you've had a bad day? Who rubs your tummy when you get a stomachache?"

"No, one, I guess," Blaine said, "My dad, sometimes, when he's not at work. Why?"

"You really don't have a mom?" Puck said.

Blaine cried out in frustration, "Yes, I don't have a mom. My own mother didn't want me, is that what you're getting at, because I already know. It won't hurt to have you say it."

"Dude," Puck said, "I couldn't imagine life without my mom."

Blaine narrowed his eyes at Puck, still waiting for the verbal attack. When it didn't come, he sat back down at his desk, "I can't imagine life with her."

"Do you know who she is?"

"Not really. She divorced my dad when I was a little kid. We've talked on the phone a few times, but she doesn't want to deal with… what is this? You want to make fun of me? Big bad Puckerman has a real family while the little homo-"

"No, dude," Puck said, "I wouldn't… I know what it's like. My parents are divorced too, and I haven't seen my dad in years."

"Oh," Blaine said, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah." Puck said. "And I'm sorry too. About hitting you in the face and giving you a black eye and stuff. I didn't think that you had… real problems, you know? I thought you were like some smarmy little rich kid."

"And now you don't?" Blaine said.

"No, I guess," Puck said.

"Oh."

"And you're right," Puck said. The silence made him uncomfortable, "What I did to Kurt, it wasn't cool. I thought that picking on him made me a badass, but it didn't. I know that now. I've apologized to him; and I thought that cause he said it was okay then it was okay, you know? But it's not okay. I know it's not okay."

"Yeah," Blaine said. Then, "… You don't have a dad?"

"Not since I was, like, 12."

"But, then, who makes you feel better when you lose a fight? Who taught you how to build a car? Who talked you through puberty?"

"My mom. Well, except for the puberty part," Puck said. Blaine hmmmed. It was as if the air between them had changed. The common thread connecting them had become visible, and neither boy could quite hate the other. "So, there was this song I've listened to. It's Broadway, so it's not usually my thing, but it kind of made me feel better. You wanna sing it tomorrow?"


End file.
